The auctioneer arrived duly by the one o'clock train. He
was a tall able-bodied man, not unlike Geoffrey in appearance, indeed at
twenty yards distance it would have been difficult to tell them apart.
The sale was fixed for half-past two, and Mr. Johnson--that was the
auctioneer's name--went to the inn to get his dinner before proceeding
to business. He was informed of the hostile demonstration which awaited
him, and that an English member of Parliament had been sent down
especially to head the mob, but being a man of mettle pooh-poohed the
whole affair.
"All bark, sir," he said to Geoffrey, "all bark and no bite; I'm not
afraid of these people. Why, if they won't bid for the stuff, I will buy
it in myself."
"All right," said Geoffrey, "but I advise you to look out. I fancy that
the old man is a rough customer."
Then Geoffrey went back to his dinner.
As they sat at the meal, through a gap in the fir trees they saw that
the great majority of the population of Bryngelly was streaming up
towards the scene of the sale, some to agitate, and some to see the fun.
"It is pretty well time to be off," said Geoffrey.
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